


shuffle of angels' feet

by Val Mora (valmora)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Resurrection, What-If, angels and storytelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-29
Updated: 2015-04-29
Packaged: 2018-03-26 09:28:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3845758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valmora/pseuds/Val%20Mora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's an infomercial. He'd never have left the TV on when he fell asleep. Can't believe he was that tired.</p><p>
  <i>You weren't. I was bored.</i>
</p><p>Yeah, well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	shuffle of angels' feet

**Author's Note:**

> Cleaned this out of my "drafts" folder in gmail after about a year of it sitting there never being written, added two sentences, and decided to post.
> 
> Title and inspiration from Johnny Cash's "[God's Gonna Cut You Down](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eJlN9jdQFSc)".

It's an infomercial. He'd never have left the TV on when he fell asleep. Can't believe he was that tired.

_You weren't. I was bored._

Yeah, well.

He gets up - he does feel rested, even if his very own relief driver was running the car all night, as it were - and uses the toilet, takes a shower, brushes his teeth. Christine used to be all over him about leaving the door open when he did, but now nobody cares. It's kind of nice, but he does miss her, even after everything.

She remarried last year, he heard. He wasn't invited.

He goes down to the station. He can still walk and talk the Fed thing, and he's still got his business cards, which helps. His co-rider told him not to worry about references, about being listed as dead for a couple years. That it was _taken care of_.

He asked enough questions to know that nobody got hurt. No point in doing good if you have to hurt innocents to do it, not really.

The police officers on duty don't even seem fazed when he comes in asking about the weird vampire-like murder: there's enough of those that at this point, the existence of some sort of cult is pretty much a standard excuse. He makes it.

The connection between the vics is the job, at a small factory about ten miles out of town. He bets it's not one of the coworkers but rather the location that makes it easy pickings.

He goes. It's daytime. He's got stakes.

It's dark in the abandoned house where they're staying, curtains drawn over all the windows. He starts by pulling them aside to brighten the room.

 _Let there be light,_ he thinks, and his co-rider laughs, heavy, ironic.

_You are not Him; He is silent, all these long millennia, and we are alone._

_Pretty much how it feels down here, too,_ he says. Not too much different, him and them, and at least Raguel is humble enough not to get mad when he says it.

**Author's Note:**

> Raguel is, in certain traditions, the archangel representing vengeance and justice.


End file.
